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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27759604">ride home</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyintherain/pseuds/dyintherain'>dyintherain</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(i think), Angst with a Happy Ending, Exes, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, mentioned jaeyong</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:49:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,132</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27759604</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyintherain/pseuds/dyintherain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Doyoung is forced to ride the train again after three years, and Yuta earns a friend.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Nakamoto Yuta</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>ride home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello! this fic is technically set in Seoul but I’ve never actually been there so I’ve kept the descriptions as generic as possible. apologies for any inaccuracies! that said, i hope you enjoy :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>DOYOUNG</b>
</p><p>[Friday, 5:45 PM]</p><p>
  <em> One, two. </em>
</p><p>Doyoung counts the puddles that he has to skip over on the way to the train station, all the while thinking of different ways to get even with Jeno. Maybe a hundred thousand won off his allowance for every puddle, and a hundred more for every muddy splash against his dress shoes and neatly-pressed slacks.</p><p>
  <em> Three, four, five. </em>
</p><p>“Not even halfway to the station and your January balance is already approaching the negative,” he pauses to text Jeno. It’s not even five seconds before his little brother replies with a “sorry” and three different sad emojis. </p><p>Doyoung sighs. </p><p>He can never really stay mad at Jeno, no matter what he does—including, it seems, leaving him stranded during rush hour, on a <em> Friday</em>, in <em> December</em>. And besides, he’s not really all that mad about <em> that</em>. Maybe he’s a bit annoyed that he has to walk through slush-covered streets while getting jostled left and right by the holiday crowd. Maybe he’s not too happy that Jeno borrowed his car this morning, promising to pick him up after work, but then promptly broke it so it’s now sitting in the shop instead of taking him home. And maybe he’s also cursing Taeyong and Jaehyun a little, for scheduling their engagement party so last minute that Doyoung didn’t get to request ahead for a day-off, and instead now has to rush to it straight after work.</p><p>Okay, the last one’s not true. He’s happy for those two, and if he’s being <em> completely </em> honest, he’s actually just mad that he has to take the train tonight.</p><p>It’s not that he hates it, it’s that he hates all the memories associated with it. The first time he rode the train, he fell in love. The last time, three years ago, he stepped off the station with a broken heart. </p><p>Doyoung quietly chuckles, a little bitter at the thought. He didn’t mean for it to sound that poetic in his head; it’s not a metaphor, it’s just what really happened. He met Yuta for the first time almost exactly seven years ago. It was also winter then, but not this low-grade kind that they got this year, where there wasn’t enough snow to paint the city that when morning comes all that’s ever left is slush. No, that year, everything looked white and soft and bright and Doyoung remembers standing in the crowded train car and thinking, out of nowhere, that seventeen may be his best year yet, just as the train’s automatic doors opened and Yuta stepped in.</p><p>And then four years later, Yuta stepped out without looking back and Doyoung got off at the next stop and never took the train again.</p><p>
  <em> Until now. </em>
</p><p>Doyoung takes a deep breath once he arrives, but immediately regrets it as he takes in the rank smell of the station, sweat and different types of perfume mingling with the artificial lemon scent of the cleaners they use on the floors. Well <em> that’s </em>another thing he didn’t miss about public transportation.</p><p>He walks up the stairs to the ticket booth, two steps at a time. He’s kind of expecting it, but he’s still thrown off-balance by the wave of nostalgia that comes over him as he reaches the top step. It’s not so much the place but the general feeling of…<em> being there, </em> that feels so achingly familiar. The truth is, this is not even <em> their </em>station, the one that they used to frequent back in college—that one’s all the way across the other side of the city. But all the stations are identical enough that Doyoung feels, for a moment, like he’s back in the past. Like any minute now, Yuta would be calling out to him from the crowd, holding up two tickets like he always used to do back then, when he’d wait for Doyoung even if he was always late, always had to finish something or other on campus, just so they could go home together.</p><p>But that was years ago, and Yuta has long since stopped waiting for him.</p><p>Doyoung winces at the thought. He knew taking the train again after all these years would be… an emotional experience, to say the least. But he hasn’t even bought a ticket yet and he’s already being melodramatic. He tells himself to get over it, that it’s just a <em> freaking </em>train station, for god’s sake. That it’s just a place, and if he stops thinking too hard, it can be just like any other place, void of memories. </p><p>He walks toward the line for the tickets, his phone vibrating in his pocket just as he reaches the end of it. It’s a text from Taeyong asking him if he’s getting home soon. Doyoung sighs as he’s reminded of the reason why he needs to rush home and has no choice but to take the train (apart from Jeno’s fault, that is).</p><p>Doyoung can’t and won’t miss Taeyong and Jaehyun’s engagement party—it’ll be hard to since it’ll be at <em> their </em>shared apartment, but also because he knows that his two best friends wouldn’t want to really start the party until he gets there, and who knows when that’ll be if he decided to take an Uber instead in the rush hour traffic. So, train it is. </p><p>He’s about to reply when his phone starts ringing with a call from Taeyong.</p><p>“Please tell me you’re at least halfway home by now,” Taeyong says in his ear as soon as he picks up.</p><p>“I’m maybe one-fifths of the way there.”</p><p>“What? Wait, what’s all the noise?”</p><p>“I’m at the train station,” Doyoung says, nonchalant. Tried to, anyway. There’s a quiet “oh” at the other end and Doyoung knows Taeyong’s thinking of the same things he himself was thinking of when he stepped in here earlier. Maybe not in the same sentimental vein, but… “That’s the first time you’re taking the train in years.”</p><p>“I think I still know how to pass through the turnstile. Or do you have to jump over it now? Hmm, might have to re-read the manual,” Doyoung quips, and Taeyong <em> ugh</em>s at him. “I meant—,” he starts to say but Doyoung cuts him off. “I know what you meant, Taeyong. But let’s not make a big deal about this.” </p><p>Because it’s not a big deal, Doyoung thinks to himself. <em> It’s just a place. </em></p><p>Thankfully, Taeyong drops the subject and proceeds to give him a play-by-play of what’s currently happening at the party instead. Apparently, Taeil arrived a little drunk already and is now hogging the karaoke machine. Doyoung listens and laughs as the line in front of him continuously moves, almost happy to be distracted by Taeyong’s voice and stories for a while. He finally hangs up when he reaches the ticket booth, though, and Taeyong goes to greet new guests coming in. </p><p>Doyoung pays for his ticket then inserts it through the opening at the gate. It beeps, then he pushes the turnstile to walk towards the platform and wait for the train. </p><p>And just like that, he’s alone with his thoughts again. </p><p>The few minutes on the phone with his best friend managed to take his mind off the… train station-<em> ness </em> of it all, but out here near the tracks with the cold wind blowing through his hair and his collar and numbing his cheeks, his memories of Yuta become a little sharper. It’s not helping that the stranger standing just beside him is tall and lanky, just like Yuta then. And from Doyoung’s peripheral vision, he can almost imagine that it really <em> is </em> him. </p><p>How many times did they stand together, just like this, back then? Just quietly waiting, Doyoung curling his hands around Yuta’s elbow, or Yuta leaning his head heavily on Doyoung’s shoulder that they’d both eventually go off-balance? They spoke constantly while walking from campus to the station and while standing in line for tickets and even while on the train itself, but they were always quiet during the short period of time waiting for the next train. </p><p>In the distance, he hears the faint clunk-chug of the oncoming train. He straightens up, inwardly shaking himself off the memory. In his peripheral view, he can still see the stranger wearing Yuta’s silhouette. Doyoung turns to look at him, and the stranger looks back questioningly, but Doyoung just smiles and faces forward again. He just wanted to get a good look on his face, not to confirm that he’s really not Yuta because he <em> knew </em>that, despite his brain playing tricks on him—he just wanted to erase Yuta’s image from his head and stick the stranger’s face on top of it instead.</p><p>When the train finally comes, it brings with it a biting cold rush of air and a fresh perspective. </p><p>Doyoung holds his coat a little tighter, hugging himself. Maybe it’s not too bad, taking the train again. Maybe it’s more than ‘not too bad’—<em>maybe, </em>this is just what he needs. A non-Yuta train experience to stick on top of all his other train memories, just like that strangers’ face. </p><p>Like putting up a picture frame over a chipped wall, when you can’t afford a fresh new coat just yet.</p><p>The train stops, then the automatic doors swoosh open. It only lasted a second, but Doyoung feels like he lived it in slow-motion. His heart skips a beat, seeming to realize what’s happening before his brain can even process what’s in front of him. </p><p>In that split second, he’s seventeen again— </p><p>Staring at Yuta as the doors part open between them, just like it did all those years ago. Except now he’s the one outside and Yuta’s the one already on the train, staring back at him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>YUTA</b>
</p><p>[Friday, 1:27 PM]</p><p>Yuta walks out of the campus gates, a brown envelope tucked under one arm and a hot cup of coffee clutched in both hands. It’s like a scene straight out of three years ago, when he last set foot in the place. At the time, Yuta didn’t think he’d ever be back in his alma mater again, even just to visit. But there he was this afternoon, sitting outside of the university’s grad school registrar, <em> applying for admission</em>.</p><p>The meeting went well enough, but Yuta still couldn’t help but feel anxious even as he was leaving the office. It’s not until he’s finally outside campus that he realizes why: the truth is, he’s still not exactly sure that he <em> wanted </em> it to go well. He’d filled up the paperwork, wrote his application essay, gathered references, and put together his writing portfolio—not to mention flew back all the way here from <em> Japan</em>, and still he’s second-guessing.</p><p>He knows why, of course. But he tries not to think of it—<em> him—</em>as he makes his way through the streets outside campus, all at once strange and familiar. </p><p>He expected a lot to change in three years, but he didn’t expect just how much <em>a lot </em>can be. The streets and the buildings are for the most part still the same, but the shops lining the sidewalks and the inside of the buildings are now all different. </p><p>It’s all disconcerting, but Yuta also feels relief. </p><p><em> Different </em> means no nostalgia. <em> Unfamiliar </em>means a fresh start.</p><p> </p><p>[Two years ago, Osaka]</p><p>Yuta takes a huge sip of his drink, then brings his glass back down heavily on the table. Across from him, he sees Johnny flinch a little.</p><p>“Well, I guess I don’t have to ask if you’re okay,” Johnny says, but Yuta can detect a faint hint of worry beneath his words.</p><p>“How is he, Johnny?” Yuta blurts out as his friend grimaces.</p><p>“Yuta, I don’t think--”</p><p>Yuta cuts him off with a wave of his hand. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.” <em> He does</em>.</p><p>Johnny stares at him intently. “He’s doing fine.” The words cut through Yuta and sends a bitter taste to his tongue down his throat, not unlike the liquid he just downed a few moments ago. “Happy, even,” Johnny continues, as Yuta puts his head on the table.</p><p>“Okay, stop,” he murmurs.</p><p>Is it so selfish of him, to get this hurt at the thought that Doyoung’s doing so well without him? It’s been a year, but some days he still wakes up feeling like it was just yesterday. </p><p>“What were you expecting? That he’d still be walking around Seoul all miserable?” Johnny asks with a slight venom in his voice. </p><p>Yuta looks up in surprise. “I thought you’re on my side.”</p><p>“I’m not on anyone’s side. You’re one of my best friends, Yuta, but Doyoung was my friend too. Did you forget you’re the one who called it off?”</p><p><em> And what? </em>Yuta wants to say. He didn’t forget it--won’t be able to anytime soon, but he also doesn’t think it means his heart can’t be hurting over it just the same.</p><p>“I always thought,” Yuta starts, then shakes his head. “I always thought we’d be the type to stay good friends after a break up.”</p><p>Johnny scoffs. “You loved each other far too much for that.” He leans back on the soft cushion of the booth, crossing his arms. “You know how they say that if two exes remain friends, they’re either still in love or never were?” </p><p>Yuta stares at him. “What’s your point?”</p><p>“The point is that you two loved each other very much, until one day you didn’t.” Johnny reaches across the table for Yuta’s bottle and pours a glass for himself. “I think it’s time for you to move on.”</p><p> </p><p>[Friday, 5:15 PM]</p><p>It’s just after sunset, and Yuta finds himself back on campus, sitting on one of the park benches lining the grounds.</p><p>It’s strange, being back. This place—not just the campus but the whole city—was his home for a good four years, but now he feels like such an outsider. He spent most of his afternoon just wandering aimlessly through the area, and when he finally got tired he realized he had nowhere else to go. There’s his hotel room, of course, where he’d been staying until he can find an apartment much nearer to the campus, but that’s all the way to the other side and he’s not ready to take the train just yet. Three years ago, he could have turned to any corner of this place and would’ve had a place to crash or at least just hang out—his apartment, his org’s HQ, his <em> friends’ </em>apartments, the university paper’s office, Doyoung’s apartment…</p><p>But now all he has is this park bench.</p><p>All day, he has been trying not to think of Doyoung—well, all of the past three years, really. But it was much easier to distract himself when he was in another country and away from anything and any place that reminds him of his ex-boyfriend. Being here, especially after all these years, is another story. This place, this city, his whole four years of college, it’s all Doyoung.</p><p>Yuta sighs and starts to stand up—it’s getting late and he’ll probably be caught in the rush hour crowd now—when his phone dings with a text message from Johnny.</p><p><b>JOHNNY: </b>I KNOW THAT PLACE</p><p>He stares at the message, confused for a moment, until it dawns on him--earlier that day, he sent Johnny a quick photo of a graffiti wall he saw in an alley tucked between a fast food place and a bookshop. It was simple enough, a painting of a full moon wrapped in dead flowers. But shadows of electrical wires from the street corner were casting harsh lines across the wall, distorting the image of the moon, and Yuta couldn’t help but think it’s a metaphor for something. </p><p>(If he’s being honest with himself, he finds everything a metaphor for his and Doyoung’s failed relationship.)</p><p><b>JOHNNY: </b>Yuta</p><p><b>JOHNNY: </b>What the hell</p><p><b>JOHNNY: </b>Were you on campus?</p><p><b>JOHNNY: </b>Were you in the city?!</p><p><b>JOHNNY: </b>ARE YOU IN THE COUNTRY</p><p><b>JOHNNY: </b>You’re back?</p><p>Yuta didn’t think Johnny would recognize the wall from the photo. But then again, he isn’t really keeping his return a secret. He’s just… not mentioning it.</p><p>His thumbs hover over his phone as he considers what to reply, but in the end, he decides not to reply at all. This is more of a face-to-face conversation, anyway.</p><p>Just as he’s about to lock his phone, though, another text comes in.</p><p><b>JOHNNY: </b>Does Doyoung know?</p><p>Yuta sighs. This, he can’t help but reply to.</p><p><b>YUTA: </b>No</p><p><b>YUTA: </b>He doesn’t need to</p><p> </p><p>[Four years ago]</p><p>Yuta is celebrating his twenty-first birthday with a drink. Well, not exactly celebrating. Just… spending. His friends are all gathered around him at the bar, but they’re all clustered in their own groups, and Yuta has never felt more alone.</p><p>He sits up from his stool and walks toward the booth by the window which overlooks the street outside. Still no sign of Doyoung.</p><p>“He’ll come,” a voice whispers behind him, and Yuta turns to find Ten smiling at him. Yuta just sighs, not bothering to make an excuse or deny what Ten is implying. He’s probably been obviously mopey ever since the party, <em> his </em>party, started an hour ago. </p><p>Ten walks past him and sits down at the booth, gesturing for him to do the same. Yuta sighs and plops down across from his friend. </p><p>“I know his lab work is important and all, but…” Yuta sighs, again, and Ten holds up three fingers at him. “That’s the third sigh in less than two minutes. I know it’s your birthday, but I’ll have to slap you when this gets to five,” he says smiling, waggling his fingers. Yuta can’t help but laugh. </p><p>“It’s just, I would have thought my birthday is at least more important, you know?”</p><p>He slumps his head at the table, a little out of frustration but also out of embarrassment at admitting that. Ten <em> is </em> his friend, but they’re not really all that close outside of the paper—Yuta is the associate editor; Ten manages the Art &amp; Culture section—certainly not <em> that </em>close for him to be confiding about his love life woes. But to his credit, Ten just smiles at him.</p><p>Yuta shakes his head. “He hasn’t even greeted me yet. I thought he was doing it on purpose, like maybe he’s planning a surprise or something. But then I got here and it’s <em> you guys </em>who threw the party and he only texted me to say he’ll be in the lab until late tonight. Now I’m starting to think he just forgot,” Yuta snorts. “I mean, what kind of boyfriend does that?” He can feel tears pushing their way out, so he brings his hands to his face, groaning. </p><p>He’s surprised when Ten reaches up to pry them away. “Hey,” Ten soothes him, lowering his right hand to the table. He doesn’t pull away even as it rests there. “I don’t really know what to say here, but just… I don’t know. There’s no point in moping? Your friends, <em> we </em> , we’re here. And I know that we’re no match for Doyoung, but it’s <em> your </em>birthday, you deserve to at least enjoy tonight.”</p><p>Yuta looks at Ten’s hand, still resting atop his own. “I’m sorry, I—” he starts to say, as Ten looks at it too and immediately pulls away. “Oh god, <em> I’m </em> sorry,” he laughs. “I’m not… I didn’t… I didn’t mean <em> anything</em>, I swear.”</p><p>Yuta tries to laugh, too, embarrassed. </p><p>“For the record, I have a boyfriend, too,” Ten clarifies. </p><p>“No, I’m sorry… for thinking anything. But thank you, for comforting me. It means a lot,” Yuta says to him, as he scoots out of the booth. He sighs, facing Ten—who never misses a beat and holds up four fingers. </p><p>Yuta smiles. “<em>And </em> before that gets to five, I think I should just go. I’m really touched that you guys did this for me,” he says, gesturing at the <em> happy birthday </em> banner hanging on one corner of the bar and at all their friends from the paper drinking and laughing underneath it. “But I’m just killing everyone’s mood here. I think I’m just gonna go to the chem lab and pick up Doyoung.”</p><p>Ten stands too, and hugs him. “Doyoung is so lucky to have you.” Yuta just smiles. “And I mean that in a totally platonic way,” Ten adds then shoves him toward their friends.</p><p>Yuta takes time to say goodbye to them, then heads out to the Chemistry building. Most of the campus is already asleep at this time of night, but the science clusters at the east side are still bright with fluorescent lights.</p><p>He walks down the hall toward the chem lab, his sadness from just a few minutes ago dissipating as he imagines Doyoung in his white coat and round glasses that he only ever wears in the lab, and his look of surprise once Yuta enters the door. Yuta just hopes that he’s not holding a beaker with combustible chemicals when he does so.</p><p>He thinks back to the things he said to Ten earlier and feels a little guilty. For confiding in Ten, for even saying it out loud—hell, for even thinking it in the first place. He doesn’t ever want to be that whiny and clingy partner who wants to take up all of Doyoung’s time. And the truth is, he’s immensely proud of his boyfriend for being so dedicated and hard-working. It’s just that, sometimes, he wishes he’d take a break, too. And if that means that Doyoung can also spend more time with him, then that’s just an added bonus.</p><p>He turns the knob slowly, finding it unlocked. He wants so badly to just yell out “Surprise!” but he already did that once and… well, there’s still a scorched mark in the floor from that incident. The door creaks open and Yuta pokes his head in, looking around for Doyoung. But the lab is not that huge, and Yuta’s face quickly falls as he realizes that his boyfriend is not here.</p><p>“Oh, hey, Yuta!” Jaehyun looks up from scribbling some notes on a pad from the far end of the lab and notices him. Yuta smiles weakly at him. “I’m guessing Doyoung’s not hiding under one of these tables?” </p><p>Jaehyun chuckles, “No, he left earlier. Didn’t he text you?” Yuta’s brows furrow as he pulls up his phone but he has no new notifications.</p><p>He just bids Jaehyun goodbye, then half-runs back the way he came and out of campus. Maybe Doyoung had gone to the bar to meet him, after all. There’s a lot of winding paths and shortcuts throughout the school, maybe they just missed each other. He texts Ten—<em>is Doyoung there??—</em>as he’s making his way back to the bar, but Ten’s “No?” stops him short.</p><p>Yuta bends over, hands on his knees as he catches his breath, then sits down on a park bench to dial Doyoung’s number. It rings and rings, but no answer. His excitement from a few seconds ago turns to worry, afraid that something might have happened. Doyoung has never missed his birthday after all—maybe Yuta should have realized that sooner instead of being all selfish and thinking Doyoung didn’t show up. And they always text each other on the way home, no matter what. Yuta’s hands shake a little as he dials again, and he almost falls off the bench in relief when Doyoung finally picks up.</p><p>“Thank god! Where are you?”</p><p>“Yuta…?” Doyoung’s voice comes off a little drowsy over the phone.</p><p>“Where are you? Were you <em> fucking </em> sleeping?” Yuta didn’t mean to sound so sharp, but his emotions are on high and the last thing he expected to hear was Doyoung’s sleepy voice after his nerves were all wracked by fear just moments ago.</p><p>“What… Why are you mad? I’m at my apartment, just about to <em> sleep,</em> when you woke me up. What’s wrong?” He detects an edge to Doyoung’s voice, and Yuta just shakes his head, almost laughing. <em> He </em>has the nerve to be cross with him?</p><p>“Nothing,” Yuta says curtly, then hangs up before Doyoung can say anything else. He stays seated at the bench for a while, not noticing the time, until a university patrol approaches to tell him it’s already curfew. </p><p>When Yuta gets home to his own apartment, he doesn’t bother turning on the lights. He just walks quietly to his room, strips out of his clothes and changes into pajamas, then lies in bed staring at his phone. There were new messages, last minute greetings from friends and family, but an hour and a half passed and still nothing from Doyoung.</p><p>He keeps staring at his phone, even as the clock nears midnight. He keeps waiting, hoping that it’s still just a prank. That at exactly 11:59, Doyoung will text him and greet him and apologize for putting him through all this, and say that it’s been hell trying to pretend he forgot, say that he’s on his way right now to Yuta’s apartment, say that it’s late but not too late for them to properly celebrate.</p><p>The clock display on his lock screen changes to 00:00, and still nothing. He waits though, just until 00:01, just to be sure. But eventually his eyes get droopy and he turns his phone off and sets it on his nightstand.</p><p>
  <em> Well, happy birthday to me. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>[Friday, 6:13 PM]</p><p>The train is packed, as expected for the Friday rush hour, and it’s smoothly gliding along the tracks, but Yuta still holds on to a pole, feeling like he needs the balance.</p><p>Trains used to be his and Doyoung’s thing, as cliché and as basic as that sounds. Yuta knows it’s stupid, it’s literally just public transportation, and a lot of people take it every day. But his best memories with Doyoung happened here. It’s where they met, after all. And if you look back on their relationship’s reel, it would be moments spent on the train—half-asleep and groggily lining up for tickets in the mornings, riding home on nights they stay out late, swaying a little in the train car, tipsy on soju but mostly just drunk on each other’s company.</p><p>Faintly, he wonders when that stopped being enough.</p><p>The train starts to slow as the overhead speakers announce the next stop. <em> The one near Doyoung’s office,</em> Yuta thinks, almost unconsciously. They haven’t been in touch in the three years since they broke up, but Yuta still likes to hurt his own feelings from time to time and pester Johnny for details about Doyoung’s present life.</p><p>He knew he’d eventually see Doyoung again—it’s a big city, but not big enough they’d never bump into each other. But he was too busy thinking of the past that it didn’t occur to him that he might see him right here, <em> right now</em>. </p><p>And if he does see Doyoung, what then?</p><p>He doesn’t get much time to contemplate as the train lurches to a stop. </p><p>Yuta looks at the door, heartbeat running wild, and even through the mist that had clouded the glass, he recognizes the silhouette of the boy standing just outside.</p><p> </p><p>[Three and a half years ago]</p><p>It’s Doyoung’s twenty-first birthday, and Yuta is running late.</p><p>“Shit, he’s gonna kill me,” Yuta frantically shoves his laptop to his bag, then clears out the papers strewn out on his desk. Ten giggles, coming over to take the papers from him, “I got this.” </p><p>Yuta narrows his eyes at him, but he’s also smiling. “Sure, laugh at my misery, why don’t you?” Ten purses his lips and puts a hand up. “Sorry! But seriously, I can clean up. Just go.” Yuta puts his arm around him and whispers, “I owe you.” He waves goodbye to the rest of the paper’s crew as he heads out.</p><p>“Sorry!!! Omw now!!” He sends a quick text to Doyoung as he speed-walks out of campus, his backpack hanging on one shoulder, swinging wildly. Doyoung replies with a simple “take your time”, but Yuta knows him enough to read between the lines. </p><p>His boyfriend is pissed.</p><p>Sure enough, Doyoung answers the door with a poker face when Yuta arrives. “Happy birthday, Doyoungie,” Yuta smiles and moves to kiss him, but Doyoung turns his cheek instead and lets the door slam. Yuta drops his bag on an armchair and follows Doyoung, trying to smile at their friends scattered around the living room. The party is already in full-swing, music blaring out from Doyoung’s tiny speakers in the corner and a couple of beer bottles littering the floor.</p><p>“Hey,” he says, grabbing Doyoung’s arm once they get to the tiny kitchen. “I’m <em> reaaally </em>sorry. You know how busy we can get at the paper during this time of year.” </p><p>Doyoung turns around and scoffs at him. “<em>Of course,</em> how selfish of me to take away my <em> boyfriend </em>from his “newspaper” duties,” he air-quotes. </p><p>Yuta drops Doyoung’s arm. “What is that even supposed to mean?” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Taeyong get up from the sofa and walk over to them. </p><p>“He’s a little drunk,” Taeyong whispers to Yuta as he puts his arm around Doyoung. </p><p>“I can <em> tell,</em>” Yuta says pointedly.</p><p>“Is this revenge for your last birthday? Are you that petty, Yuta?” Doyoung asks, shrugging off Taeyong’s arms from his shoulders. Yuta’s mouth drops open. “What?” The music is loud, even in the kitchen, but Yuta doesn’t think he heard it wrong.</p><p>“Come on, Doie, it’s your birthday,” Taeyong continues to fuss beside them as Doyoung crosses his arms. </p><p>“Can you just,” Yuta pinches the bridge of his nose, “can you just leave us alone, <em> please</em>, Taeyong?” Taeyong freezes for a second, but he sighs and walks back to the living room.</p><p>“Don’t talk to my best friend like that.” Doyoung leans against the sink, and Yuta braces his hands against the opposite counter.. “What’s going on, Doyoung? I know I’m late, and I’m fucking sorry for it, but you’re kind of being an asshole over such a little thing.” </p><p>Doyoung throws his hands, “<em>Such </em> a little thing? I’m sorry if I want to celebrate my fucking birthday with my fucking boyfriend! I’m sorry if I thought that <em> maybe </em> I’m somehow more important than the stupid school paper!”</p><p>The chatter in the next room abruptly stops. The music continues playing through the speakers, the pounding bass hurting Yuta’s head. </p><p>“Can someone just turn that thing off?!” He turns to the living room, and Jaehyun scampers over to switch off the speakers. A sudden quiet fills the apartment, Yuta can hear Doyoung’s breathing across from him. Everyone tries to resume their conversations but Yuta can still feel them turning their ears towards the kitchen.</p><p>“I don’t want to do this here, Doyoung.”</p><p>“Then go,” Doyoung replies, pushing himself upright then walking out to the living room. Yuta clenches his fist as he watches him. He doesn’t want to be mad at Doyoung, especially when it’s his birthday, but he’s making it damn hard not to with how he’s acting. Yuta knows that he should’ve tried more to come on time or at least earlier than this, but is it really <em> that </em>bad of a screw-up for Doyoung to give him such hell?</p><p>He takes a deep breath, composing himself. His backpack is lying on an arm-chair next to where Doyoung is sitting now, talking with their friends as if nothing happened. Yuta shakes his head and goes straight for the door. He’ll come back for his things later.</p><p>He’s halfway down the hall when he hears Doyoung’s voice behind him. “You’re really just gonna go?”</p><p>Yuta turns around, sighing.</p><p>Doyoung is standing outside his door, clutching Yuta’s bag in one hand.</p><p>“What do you want me to do, Doyoung?”</p><p>“I know I messed up last year on your birthday, Yuta. But do you really have to get back at me like this?”</p><p>Yuta shakes his head. “You think this is me getting back at you for missing my birthday last year? Is <em> that </em> what you think of me?” He can’t believe that he even has to defend himself about this. His birthday was over three months ago and he’s long forgiven Doyoung for it. And at least <em> he </em>showed up.</p><p>Doyoung slides down to the floor, and Yuta rushes over. “I don’t know what to think,” Doyoung whispers, then looks up at him. “Were you with Ten?”</p><p>Yuta runs his hands over his face. <em>This </em>is what it’s all about? “Yes, along with the <em>entire </em>staff. Oh my god, I can’t believe we’re having this conversation again.” </p><p>Doyoung stands up. “Well, imagine that you come here to my birthday party and find me holding hands with some guy, huh? What would you feel?” </p><p>Yuta stares at him for a few seconds, not believing what he’s hearing. They’ve had this conversation for what feels like almost a hundred times now, and it’s getting old. It’s a fucking drama cliche, and Yuta can’t believe it’s his real life - Doyoung coming to the bar after all, only to be stopped short in his tracks when he saw Ten holding Yuta’s hand. A heated screaming match: Yuta frustratingly trying to explain what happened, Doyoung being too consumed with jealousy to listen.</p><p>“I’d probably feel jealous,” Yuta finally replies to Doyoung’s desperate question.</p><p>Doyoung sniffs, but Yuta continues. “<em>But</em>, I’d probably come in anyway and ask you about it because I trust you. I wouldn’t just walk out without talking to you first. I wouldn’t just go home and intentionally leave you hanging on your birthday.” </p><p>Doyoung shakes his head at him, a tear escaping one eye. </p><p>“And after, when you explain to me that <em> the guy </em> is just your friend, trying to comfort you because you don’t know whether <em> your </em>boyfriend will come to your birthday, I’d believe you,” Yuta continues.</p><p>Doyoung bites his lip, full-on crying now. Yuta feels tears running down his own face.</p><p>“I’d believe you, and I won’t bring it up three months later just to make a point.” Yuta snatches his backpack and walks away.</p><p> </p><p>[Friday, 6:05 PM]</p><p>Seeing Doyoung standing just outside the train car feels so surreal, Yuta can’t help but consider he’s just seeing things. Like it’s not actually Doyoung, but a personified form of the relationship they had, the one he threw away three years ago, coming back to him now like a boomerang. He’s back in the city, and this day was already a whole nostalgia fest as it was, that he can almost believe it. </p><p>He almost doesn’t dare to breathe as he stares at Doyoung. Doyoung stares back at him, unmoving amidst people rushing past to step into the train. For a moment, Yuta feels scared that Doyoung’s not going to get in just because he saw him. Yuta stands straighter at the thought, like he’s preparing himself to hold the door open if Doyoung still doesn’t move.</p><p><em> And what then? </em>he asks himself.</p><p>But Doyoung does, and when the doors finally close and the train starts to move, Yuta breathes again.</p><p>-</p><p>The train car is crowded, and since Doyoung is the last to get in, there’s no more room for him to squeeze into the inner carriage. He’s standing right in front of Yuta, eyes moving up, down, left, right, looking at every possible corner except at him.</p><p>He hasn’t changed, still the same haircut, still the same serious expression with lips pressed together, highlighting the small scar just below it. Yuta’s hands twitch at his sides, wanting to reach out to him like muscle memory, like three years was not nearly enough to forget. </p><p><em> It’s wrong</em>, his hands tell him. Being this near to Doyoung and not touching him, <em> it’s wrong</em>. </p><p>His heart thumps thumps at his rib cage. <em> Mine, </em> it says. Doyoung hasn’t been his in a while, his brain tries to reason, but his heart continues. <em> Mine, mine</em>.</p><p>It’s too much, so Yuta looks past Doyoung and at the glass doors instead. His reflection looks back at him, bleached hair falling into his eyes and almost touching his shoulders. He wonders what Doyoung thinks of it, if he even noticed.</p><p>The train soon stops at the next station, and a few people get out but not enough to make it feel less crowded.</p><p>Yuta briefly thinks that maybe even if everyone else except him and Doyoung got out, it’ll still feel no less crowded for the two of them.</p><p>-</p><p>They didn’t have a messy break up. It’s true what he said to Johnny, two years ago when his friend came to visit him in Osaka. He really thought they'd remain close friends, after everything. But they’ve never really talked after that day on the train station, their last ride home together, and even though it was Yuta who technically initiated the break up, he felt like he was the one more surprised by how everything turned out. When he left, he just assumed he’d see Doyoung the next day and they’d smile at each other and maybe it would hurt at first but eventually they’d get over it and be friends.</p><p>How naive he was, back then.</p><p>A seat opens up on Doyoung’s side when the train stops again, but instead of sitting on it right away, he gestures for Yuta to take it. It takes Yuta a beat to realize that Doyoung addressed him.</p><p>“Seems like you’ve been standing a while,” Doyoung says.</p><p>Yuta opens his mouth, closes it, shakes his head once, then opens it again. Until a grumbling middle-aged man in a wrinkled suit pushes past and takes the seat instead. Doyoung sighs and rolls his eyes.</p><p>“Sorry,” Yuta says quietly, not really for the seat. He hears Doyoung inhale sharply, but he doesn’t say anything.</p><p>Each station is technically just two to three minutes away from each other, but Yuta feels like it’s been an hour - an eternity, if he’s going to exaggerate - since Doyoung stepped into this train.</p><p>The train stops once again - <em>two more to go</em>, Yuta silently counts to himself. Their car almost empties out then, with the bulk of the crowd getting out. Yuta finally takes a seat and sees Doyoung do the same across from him. He knows he should say something- a <em> hello </em>would be good, but it’s four stations too late for that.</p><p>He takes a deep breath, just as the speakers above them crackles to life. Yuta looks around, surprised that they’re at another station already, but sees that the train is just stopping in the middle of the tracks. The conductor is saying something, but the sound comes off muffled and too fast for Yuta to catch except for one word - <em> delay</em>. He hears Doyoung groan, running a hand through his face.</p><p>“What- what did they say?” Yuta tentatively asks.</p><p>Doyoung blinks, as if surprised that there’s Yuta in front of him. Yuta winces.</p><p>“There’s some problem with the track bed ahead, so they had to pull the emergency brakes,” Doyoung explains, tone painfully neutral for Yuta’s ears.</p><p>Yuta’s about to reply but Doyoung is already turning away, rummaging through his bag to pick up his phone.</p><p>“Hey, the train stopped,” he hears Doyoung say to whoever’s at the other end. “No, I’m fine… Yes… I don’t know how long but… Yeah, don’t worry about me. Yeah, yeah. See you at home.”</p><p><em> Home</em>.</p><p>Yuta’s breath catches at the fondness in Doyoung’s voice. Home - wasn’t that what they were to each other, all those years ago? He sees Doyoung hang up and purse his lips, the scar underneath becoming more visible. Yuta strains to run his thumb through it.</p><p>Doyoung looks at him as he hangs up the phone. Directly, for the first time since they saw each other tonight. Yuta has the sensation that he can fall from the weight of it if he’s still standing.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>DOYOUNG</b>
</p><p>[Friday, 6:20 PM]</p><p><em> He bleached his hair</em>, was Doyoung’s first thought. Apart from the initial freakout at seeing him when the train doors opened, that is.</p><p>Doyoung can’t believe it- can’t believe his bad luck that the first time he dares ride the train again after three whole years, he comes face-to-face with the very reason he avoided it in the first place, can’t believe that he still has to catch his breath at the sight of him, can’t believe that the universe hates him so much for this to happen not even a whole minute after he resolved to finally start letting go.</p><p>“I can’t believe you’re back,” is the only thing he says instead. <em> I’ve always thought I’d be the first to know when you are</em>, Doyoung adds in his thoughts.</p><p>“I- yeah,” Yuta says, then clears his throat.</p><p>It’s quiet around them--their fellow passenger’s cries of annoyance for the train’s delay have since died down, and everyone is just slumping in the seats in resignation, not really able to do anything but wait.</p><p>“How have you been?” Yuta asks him quietly, after a few seconds.</p><p>Doyoung purses his lips. He’s always hated small talk, but now he realizes it’s on a whole other level of painful when it’s with someone he used to love.</p><p>“Good.” Doyoung nods. “You?”</p><p>Doyoung remembers one night, not too different from this one - both of them bundled up in big puffy coats, sitting on the train as close to each other for warmth, exchanging mundane stories from their days, otherwise boring but interesting enough if you love the one telling them.</p><p>“Alright, I guess,” Yuta says now. “Could be better.”</p><p>Yuta stares at him intently. Doyoung looks away.</p><p>“Doyoung, I-”</p><p>He turns back again at Yuta’s tentative tone.</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>The words freeze Doyoung, takes his breath away for a millisecond. When he regains it, his heart pounds extra harder to catch up.</p><p>“For what?” he manages to say. It sounds like a dumb question, but he realizes he actually has no idea. For breaking up with him, three years ago? Despite what happened, Doyoung knows he never expected Yuta to apologize for that. They both knew it coming, the end of their relationship looming over them like a dark cloud a few months before it even happened.</p><p>“For the way I gave up on you... I guess,” Yuta says.</p><p>Doyoung winces, feels his eyes burn with the threat of tears.</p><p>“Well, if we’re doing apologies…” Doyoung says, trying to keep his tone light-hearted when he’s feeling anything but. “I’m sorry that I took you for granted.”</p><p>Yuta bites his lip and shakes his head. “You didn’t.”</p><p>Doyoung rolls his eyes, despite everything. “Oh come on, you know I did. You’ve always been good to me, and I-”</p><p>“We were young,” Yuta cuts him off.</p><p>Doyoung feels his lips quirk up at the corner. “Yeah, I guess we were.”</p><p>He thinks back to his eighteenth birthday, when Yuta took him to an amusement park. They were at the highest point of the Ferris Wheel - Yuta was grinning, the biggest grin Doyoung has ever seen in him, looking down at the view below them; Doyoung was clutching the handholds, heart beating so fast he was scared it would jump out of his chest and plummet to the ground. <em> Doyoung, you gotta look at this view</em>, Yuta said to him, but Doyoung couldn’t so much as turn his head. Yuta faced him then, realized he was shaking and immediately wrapped his arms around him. <em> Oh god, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were scared of heights, </em>Yuta murmured against his hair. </p><p>He kept his arms around him all the way down.</p><p>It was the moment Doyoung realized he was in love. He was young and he was in love, and Doyoung knew, even then, that he would never feel anything close to how that felt, ever again.</p><p>“How’s Jeno?” he hears Yuta ask, jolting him back to the present.</p><p>“In trouble,” Doyoung replies. “He broke my car, which is why I had to take the train tonight,” he explains at Yuta’s look of confusion.</p><p>“So, why are you back?” Doyoung blurts out before he can overthink it.</p><p>“Oh, I’m- I’m taking my masters here.”</p><p>Doyoung mouths an “oh”. Three years ago, just after their college graduation, Yuta flew back home to Japan, decided he wanted nothing to do with this city - with Doyoung - anymore. Doyoung cursed the sight of every plane in the sky since then.</p><p>“How’s your job?” Yuta asks him in return.</p><p>A tired laugh escapes from his lips. “Could be better,” he shrugs.</p><p>Yuta raises an eyebrow. </p><p>“It’s-” Doyoung sighs. “I work in an office,” he says plainly. He thinks about all the times he blew off Yuta, when he always had something or other to finish in the chemistry labs, when he thought he was working toward the future he wants, only for him to end up here, having lost both.</p><p>“Are you going to do grad school full-time?” he asks Yuta.</p><p>“Sort of, but I still do some freelance writing on the side.”</p><p>The last day of summer before their senior year, the two of them took a trip and rented an Airbnb just outside the city. <em> Can you imagine getting a place of our own, just like this? </em> Yuta said to him, hugging him from behind and resting his chin on his shoulder. They stayed up all night in the balcony, counting the stars and talking about the future. When the sun finally rose on the sky for a new day, Yuta turned to him and said <em> I don’t know how I’d survive the future without you</em>.</p><p>It’s been three years into that future they talked about, and Doyoung has to bite his tongue to keep from blurting it out, keep himself from asking if he’s the only one walking around with all these memories.</p><p>The overhead speakers crackle once again, making Doyoung straighten in his seat as he listens to the conductor’s announcement.</p><p>“Are we good to go now?” Yuta asks.</p><p>“Yeah,” Doyoung says just as he feels the faint vibration of the train, getting ready to move forward once again.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>YUTA</b>
</p><p>[Friday, 6:45 PM]</p><p>The train was stopped for almost a half hour, and all Yuta got out of it was an excruciating round of small talk with Doyoung. He thought the delay would be longer, long enough for him to say everything he wants to - but now it’s like the clock has started again, counting down to when they’d both get off the last stop and say goodbye.</p><p>“Do you…” he starts to ask. “Are you with someone?”</p><p>Doyoung furrows his eyebrows, instinctively looking beside him, until Yuta sees realization creep up his face.</p><p>“No, I- why do you ask?”</p><p>“Earlier, on the phone, you…” Yuta gestures vaguely.</p><p>“Oh, that was Taeyong.”</p><p>“And you’re not…?”</p><p>“Oh, no.” Doyoung chuckles. “Tonight’s his engagement party. With Jaehyun.”</p><p>“Oh. They finally did it, huh?”</p><p>Doyoung just nods with a fond smile.</p><p>The train stops. One last station.</p><p>“Doyoung.” Yuta takes a deep breath. “Are we good?”</p><p>Doyoung stares at him for a beat. “We will be.”</p><p>Yuta decides that's good enough.</p><p>Three minutes pass in a quiet blur, and soon the train is slowing down, reaching the end of the tracks. The doors swoosh open, and Yuta would forever associate the sound with Doyoung’s smiles - his smile when they first met on the train, all those years ago, all the smiles since then in his memories, and the smile he’s giving him now as they step off and into the platform together.</p><p>“I’m glad I ran into you,” Yuta says.</p><p>Doyoung looks at him for a second before answering. “I am too. I wasn’t at first-” Yuta breathes out a laugh “-but I am now.”</p><p>Yuta reaches out and takes Doyoung’s hand - it’s cold and he wants nothing more than to clasp it in his own and make it warm. But he settles with a gentle squeeze. For now.</p><p>“I’ll see you around, yeah?”</p><p>Doyoung nods.</p><p>Yuta starts to walk away when Doyoung calls after him. “Yuta?”</p><p>He turns around as Doyoung blows out a breath, forming a white cloud in front of him. “Friends?” he asks meekly. </p><p>Yuta's lips stretch wide with a smile. “Of course.”</p><p>Doyoung nods, once, then waves a hand before turning away.</p><p>Yuta’s conversation with Johnny, that night in Osaka, comes back to him as he makes his way out of the train station. <em> “You know how they say that if two exes remain friends, they’re either still in love or never were?”  </em></p><p>Maybe Johnny has a point, after all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading! kudos and comments are always appreciated :’)</p><p>twt: do0_yuu<br/>cc: dyintherain</p></blockquote></div></div>
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